


You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

by icyowl97



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil's Childhood, Cecil's mother is protective, Sort of? - Freeform, someone tries to sew Cecil's mouth shut, there's blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:59:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icyowl97/pseuds/icyowl97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desdemona Palmer has always known that her son, Cecil, would inherit the Voice. It runs through the family, from first born to first born, and Cecil is next in line. But her position is unique. After a horrible accident with her father, the town of Night Vale no longer trust anyone with the Voice, and she knows that if they get they chance, they will stop Cecil from inheriting it. Even, maybe, at the cost of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

The boy's hiding under the table when his mother finds him. He's curled up in a ball, his knees tucked up to his chest, his tiny arms gripping his teddy bear tightly.  
She grabs his foot and pulls him out, and the boy shrieks, his tear-stained face the picture of terror. It takes him a few seconds to recognize her, but once he does he flings himself into her arms, his arms still wrapped tightly around the teddy bear.

She wraps her arms around him, lifting him off the floor and whispering into his ear. "It's okay, Cecil. It's okay. You're safe now."

Cecil is crying into her shoulder, and he's sobbing so hard that he is having trouble breathing.

Gently she strokes his back, still whispering soothing words into her ears in her beautiful, smooth voice. "I'm here, Cecil. I've got you now. Hush now."

They stand there like that until the boy stops crying, and her voice is horse from whispering to him. Then, cradling him to her chest, she carries him to her room where they settle down on the old rocking chair that sits in the corner.

Cecil sniffles, looking up at his mother with red, puffy eyes. "Mommy, they said they were gonna- that they were gonna-" He runs an arm across his face, and she pulls him closer.

"I know." She whispers. "But I'm not going to let them do anything to you, Cecil. I promise." Her heart is hurting, just from looking at the expression on her son's face. She had almost lost him today.

Cecil doesn't look convinced, but he snuggles tighter into her grasp, and she begins rocking. He looks up at her, biting his lip. "Mommy... Could you tell me a story?"

She smiles and reminds herself that she can't cry, that she has to be strong for Cecil. "Of course." She says, stroking his hair softly with her hand, and he closes his eyes as she spins a story about a world with dragons, and fairies, with knights and royalty. She spins him a world that is both horrifying and beautiful, and it is a world that is only his.

~ ~ ~ ~

They don't come for him again for 5 years. He wanted to listen to the radio show, and so his mother leaves him at home for a few minutes. She just needs to run to the store for a few things, and then she'll be back. She doesn't think that anything will happen, but she still shops as fast as she can.

At the store, people steer clear of her as she walks down the aisles, purposely looking away from her. It's almost comical, seeing a woman as powerful and graceful as Desdemona Palmer pushing a shopping cart that was filled with bright boxes of cereal.

But no one laughed, and anyone who happened to glance at her quickly look away. When she gets to the checkout area, the woman there is clearly terrified, and she's shaking so hard that it takes quite some time to check out.

When it's finally finished, Desdemona hurries home. The anxiaty she's been feeling about leaving Cecil alone at home swell to a panic as she realizes that it has been almost a half an hour since she left her son at home, and as the panic grows, she speeds up, her pace gradually increasing until she breaks out into a run.

She's only a few houses away when she hears Cecil scream. Her heart almost stopping, she drops the groceries and runs to the house. The door has been kicked down, and she hears the wood splintering as she runs over it, but she doesn't care.

"Cecil!?" She screams, her voice echoing around the house. "Cecil, where are you!?"

"Mommy!" Cecil screeches, calling her by a name he hasn't used in over 3 years. "Mommy, I'm upstairs-" His scream gets cut off, and she sprints up the stairs.

The window in Cecil's room is broken, and she can see blood on the jagged edges that are sticking up. Her breath catches in her throat, and she can't remember having ever been this terrified.

She jumps out the window after them, and she catches them before they get to the end of the street. While Cecil isn't heavy, he's enough of a burden on them that they don't stand a chance of outrunning her.

They drop Cecil after the first one hears her footsteps, deciding that their lives are worth more than this now futile task.

She could catch them, she thinks, watching them run away. She could catch them, she could make it so they would never even think about hurting her baby boy again.

But Cecil is so helpless there, lying on the grass next to the sidewalk. He's unconscious and bleeding, and she knows that she can't leave him there. So with a last spiteful look at the fleeing people, she gathers her son up in her arms and begins heading back to the house.

He's bleeding quite a bit, and she can feel it ooze into her sleeves and into the front of her robes, but she doesn't care.

She almost lost him again today. Those monsters got their hands on him this time. They hurt him. It's like that first night, all those years ago, but this time it's so much worse. She closes her eyes and lets tears roll down her cheeks.

He's awake before they get home, and he reaches up and touches her cheek, wiping a tear away while accidentally smearing blood on her face.

The contact startles her, and her eyes flicker open as looks down at Cecil. His face is drawn in pain, confusion, fear, and seeing that look on a child's face would have brought any other mother down to her knees in tears.

But not Desdemona Palmer. Never her. She wipes the tears away on her shoulder, and dries her tears. She can't cry in front of Cecil.

"Mommy, are you hurt?" Cecil asks hesitantly, biting his lips.

She smiles down at him gently, her face the picture of calm despite the storm that was raging inside. "No, Cecil." She says as they get to the house. When they get inside, she sits down on the stairs, and leans over, kissing Cecil on his forehead gently.

"Why... why are you crying?" He asks, concerned.

She can't tell him. She can't tell him she was afraid. She can't tell him that she was sad, or that she was overjoyed that he was alive. So she leans back against the wall, clutching him to her chest, and says "I was crying because I was angry, Cecil."

He blinks at her, confused. "Why were you angry, mommy?"

She starts rocking him in her arms, and she's silent for a few minutes. In her arms, Cecil, who was tired to begin with, begins drifting off to sleep.

Finally, right before he falls asleep, she whispers to the ceiling. "I was angry because they tried to take what was most dear to me."

But Cecil didn't hear her. He's far, far away now. He's asleep, and he dreams of a land with dragons and fairies, and knights and royalty. He dreams of a world that is both horrifying, and beautiful, and it is a world where he is safe, and nothing hurts.

~ ~ ~

Desdemona never leaves her son alone again. For the next 5 years, she always stays home with him, and if she does leave to get something, she takes Cecil with her.

She's tried to shelter him, but he's older now. He's aware of the stares and whispers at the store and the library. He understands what they want to do. And it still scares him.

Sometimes, at night, when he hears a sound, he goes into his mother's room. At first, he would just curl up at the foot of her bed, but as it got worse, they moved a cot into her room.

For him, every night he manages to spend in his own room is a victory. A sign that he is brave. For his mother, every night he flees to her room and can't quite close his eyes is a lose. It is a sign that she's failed to keep him safe.

She feels like that a lot. Everytime she sees the scars all over his body from the day with the window is a sign that she almost lost him. Every time he stiffens his back because he hears someone whisper about him is a reminder that she can't keep from safe from everything.

But every time he smiles or laughs is a reminder that somehow, somewhere along the way, she did something right. That in spite of the constant fear and hiding, her son had managed to become a good kid.

And with every day that passes after he turns 15, they both feel a lot safer. Because as soon as he changes, then they'll be safe. No on will dare to hurt him. He'll be able to do what he wants, go where he wants. He might even be able to make friends.

But all of those hopes shatter the same night that the window in the living room shatters as well.

Cecil was in his room, but when the window broke, he fled to his mother's room. He didn't realize it was real, he just thought it was another of his waking nightmares.

So instead of waking his mother, he just flung himself face down into the cot and pulled the blanket over his head, trying to stop his heart from pounding.

He'd done that a lot, but no matter how much practice he gets, it never get easier.

Then, just when his heart has managed to calm down, the door to his mother's room flings open and people pour inside.

Desdemona awakes with a start, but before she can even begin to understand what's happening, one of the men grabs her and quickly slaps a piece of duct tape over her mouth.

Everything that follows after is like a nightmare, the nightmares that they both have every night. Except that this nightmare is also mixed with pain, with tears, and with a heavy dose of reality.

Because this is real. The men holding the mother from her son are real. The men holding the son down are real. The hands forcing Cecil to look up and keep his mouth shut are as real and as painful as the needle that is running stitches through his lips, sealing his mouth shut.

The taste of the penny and the salt in Cecil's mouth is bitter and harsh, and Desdemona is crying, her helplessness and rage all blurring together into something intangible and impossible to swallow.

And then the man pulls out the knife, and time slows down as the knife is flicked open. The light glinting off the blade becomes the center of Cecil's world, and the man holding it become's the center of his mother's world. But neither of them can do anything but watch as the knife begins it's slow descent towards Cecil's vulnerable and far too exposed throat.

All that is left is to pray for a miracle. Pray for the impossible to happen in this very moment. And perhaps, in the end, the true miracle, the true impossibility, is that somehow against all odds, a miracle does happen

Cecil's body buckled upwards with far more force than he should be able to muster, flipping the man off his chest. His whole body began to spasm, and the man holding Cecil's mother down backed away, before running out the door. Some of the other's followed, but most were too shocked to move.

Cecil's entire body lit up, and the thread that held his lips shut burning away, the gash across his throat closing.

Everyone else threw their hands over their eyes, turning away, but his mother watched, her tears drying as she watched her son change. His light was so bright, brighter than any she had even seen before, and she was struck with awe. She had always known that he was beautiful on the inside, but now she could see it, and it was so much more than she had imagined.

The light was so bright that even after it faded away, it seemed like it was still there for another few minutes. The people ran away, not bother to grab anything.

Then, Cecil stood up, flipping on the light before running to his mother, tearing the tape off her before gathering her into his arms, whispering to her. "Mom, I did it. I changed." His voice was different now. It was smooth. It was beautiful.

She smiled at him, reaching up to his face to touch the long scar on his cheek. "Do you remember how you got that?" She whispered.

Cecil nodded. "The window." He pressed on hand against her throat, trying to stop the blood pouring from the wound.

"I couldn't protect you then, Cecil. I was so scared that I would lose you. But here we are. You're safe." She ran her finger along the scar slowly, from his eyebrow to his chin, before letting her hand fall back to her side.

"But you did protect me, Mommy. You saved me." He whispered. "And- And now I'm going to protect you."

She smiled, closing her eyes. She didn't need to be protected, since Cecil was the thing she had to lose. "Cecil, could you... could you tell me a story?"

He forces a smile and reminds himself that he can't cry while telling a story, that he has to be strong for his mother, because she was always strong for him. "Of course." He says, stroking her hair softly with a blood splattered hand, and she closes her eyes as he spins a story about a world with dragons, and fairies, with knights and royalty. He spins her a world that is both horrifying and beautiful, and it is a world that is only hers.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is something I've been working on halfheartedly for a while. While it doesn't really fit into cannon, I decided to publish it anyways.  
> In this story, Cecil and his mother are Sirens of sort, and are able to convince people to do whatever they want them to do. Cecil, when growing up, didn't have this ability, because it doesn't manifest until the age of 15.  
> In this story, Siren's aren't particularly popular, and what the men are trying to do is to remove Cecil's voice before he develops it.


End file.
